


We're Not Eating Him

by delusions_of_adequacy



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: A/B/O, ABO, Age Difference, Blow Jobs, Consensual Underage Sex, Consentacles, Explicit Consent, Gay Sex, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Light Bondage, M/M, MCU Peter Parker, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Oral Sex, Spiderbrock, Tender Sex, Tentacle Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2020-09-28 00:07:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20416598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delusions_of_adequacy/pseuds/delusions_of_adequacy
Summary: Unintended side-effect of having super strength: you crush anyone who tries to have sex with you. The only one who can give Peter the relief he so desperately needs is the one person in the city with the same powers as him...if he can convince Eddie to mess around with a minor.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s Saturday night and Eddie is attempting to eat popcorn from a bowl perched on his stomach when they hear the knock. 

He and the symbiote stare at the door in silent agreement. _We’re not here. Go away. _

The knock comes again, sounding somewhat tentative. Not the police, then. Probably some neighbor wanting them to move their bike.

Eddie’s phone vibrates. 

“Shit,” he curses, the bowl of popcorn almost overturning as he works to fish his phone from his pocket. The caller ID flashes on the screen, saying simply, “Intern.”

“What?” he whispers into the phone so that the person outside the door won’t hear him.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you at home?”

“Yeah?” 

“Can I come in?”

“Wha—Oh.” Eddie heaves a sigh. “No. Go away.”

“Please,” the kid says, and there’s a tinge of desperation to his voice that makes Eddie pause. “Fine,” he sighs, and heaves himself up off the couch, the symbiote slinking quietly into his skin.

The kid_ looks_ desperate under the porch light, sweaty and disheveled. “Hey, Eddie,” he says, sounding clearly relieved, and Eddie’s anxiety spikes. When a teenage superhero shows up at your door in the middle of the night, there are a wide variety of potential explanations, none of which are good. 

“What’s up?” he says urgently. “You hurt? Something threatening the world? Someone’s been kidnapped?”

“No—”

“Someone’s threatening you? Or—” he registers the kid’s flushed appearance—“are you sick or something?"

“No, uh, none of that. This is, uh, personal,” the kid practically stammers. Eddie’s never seen him like this before. As they stand there, a group of moths flutters by. “Here, come in before the bugs get in,” Eddie says hastily, and they step inside. As loathe as he is to show the kid his merely-okay apartment, he said he lives near Rosedale, so he can't be used to much better.

“You want anything? Beer? How old are you, again?” He asks, stepping into the kitchen. He’s starting to calm down, now. His reporter’s sense is tingling—he’s seen this look many times before. It’s the look of, “I want to tell you something, but I’m too shy/embarrassed/worried the mafia will retaliate to do so.” Whatever it is, he’s going to have to _coax_ it out of him. Build up a rapport.

Which he is great at. 

“How’s school?” He asks casually, settling himself on a barstool. He knows from long experience that laying on the pressure won't get him what he wants.

“F-fine." 

“Making good grades? Staying out of trouble?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie sips his beer in silence. Rule #1 in the reporter/lawyer/salesman handbook: Shut Up, Stupid. Most humans can’t bear to sit in silence for too long. Eventually, they’ll start babbling.

“Uh,” Peter starts, right on cue.

Eddie waits.

“Um. Uh, what you said about being sick. Um, kind of. Is the answer.”

A flush creeps over the kid’s face, and he falls silent. 

Eddie continues to adhere to Rule #1, casually pulling his sleeves over his tattoos to minimize his threat level. Another thing learned from experience. 

**Heat, Eddie,** the symbiote says quietly. **He smells…hungry. **

Fuck. It’s right. Even tucked away in his body, the symbiote’s keen senses have picked up the pheromones that are practically radiating off the boy. Now that it’s been pointed out to him, Eddie can’t believe he didn’t notice. 

“Oh, fuck,” he says. “You’re horny? You’re in heat?”

The kid nods mutely, and this time Eddie’s silence is real—and awkward. Does the kid want sex advice? Is he today’s replacement dad?

“Uh. Okay? Do…you…need help?”

For the love of God, he is not prepared to give Spiderman sex advice and condoms today.

“I’m—I’m so—it’s so _bad_,” the kid mutters, staring at his lap. His pink tinge has graduated to a full-on blush. In spite of himself, Eddie softens. He’s a _kid. _He doesn’t want to be here, either. He came because he doesn't know what else to do. Lord knows Eddie hadn't, either, at his age. 

“Okay,” he says calmly. “Don't you have a girlfriend? She mad at you, or something?”

“No…” 

**Us,** **Eddie, **the symbiote says. **He wants _us_. **

Eddie chooses to ignore that completely. “I can’t help you if I don’t know the problem, kid.”

“She’s not mad,” Peter stammers. “She’s—she—I hurt her. I hurt her really bad. The last time we—you know." He stares at his feet in shame. 

“I broke two of her ribs…left bruises all over her arms. She—she’s not mad at me, but…I can’t. I’ve tried to be careful, but…

“I’m too strong. _Super_-strong. I can lift cars…throw statues…I’m too hard…too _heavy_…”

Eddie looks at him pityingly, at a loss. 

“I tried it with a man,” Peter says, “I made a Grindr account…I thought that, maybe, with someone bigger than me…but it happened again. I break _everyone_...”

Finally, he looks straight at Eddie. “You’re the only one, Eddie,” he says anxiously. “You’re the only one who could—with the symbiote—you could—" 

“Have sex with you?” Eddie finishes incredulously.

Peter says nothing.

“No.”

“Please.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why? Why not? I mean, if you’re not into me, that’s—“

“I shouldn’t _be_ into you. That’s the _point_. I’m twice your age—more than twice your age! I’m—“ Eddie winces at the unanticipated dilemma of simple math.

“Twenty-three years older,” Peter says quietly.

“Whatever,” Eddie says irritably. _Math._ “Yeah. Twenty-three years older than you. And you’re my _intern_!”

“_Ex_-intern. And I’ll be eighteen next year…” 

“The age isn't the point! The age is just a number that the government decided is bad. It’s not about the age, it’s the _principle_. You just shouldn’t have sex with an older person—they could manipulate you—take advantage of you--”

He stops, remembering with regret the hookups that went wrong, the many times he’d thought that he was in control. The men who'd said he was so _mature_, so much _smarter_ than the other students…when what he’d really been, was more gullible. 

“I can’t,” he says helplessly. “I can’t. It's--it's personal. I’m sorry.”

The kid doesn’t answer. Just looks at him with the saddest, most defeated eyes Eddie’s ever seen.

Seventeen. God.

He remembers being in heat at seventeen. The lust was insatiable, agonizing. He remembers sneaking away to his room at every opportunity, having full-on breakdowns in public at the sight of a nicely-toned forearm. Wondering if it would ever, ever stop— 

Fuck.

His most deeply-held morals are smacking right up against his savior complex. At a loss, he runs his fingers through his hair, looking around for something that will make this problem go away. He finds nothing. 

He sighs. 

_You good with this? _

**Am okay with it, Eddie,** the symbiote replies. **He smells good…tasty...**

_We’re not eating him, _Eddie answers, and suddenly, he’s drowsy, floaty. _Hungry_.

_What did you--_

_I help you...make you calmer...less upset..._

Eddie starts to chastise him for drugging him without permission, but bites it back. He was just trying to help. And if he, Eddie, is drugged, at least the power dynamics will be somewhat tempered.

He looks at the kid, who's perched on his bar stool, his body glowing in the lamplight. If he stops thinking about him as his intern, Eddie thinks, he’s—God—he’s actually pretty _hot_. Slender and taut and agile, like a gymnast. 

“Okay,” he mumbles slowly, “Okay. Take your pants off.”

Peter looks up, gratitude flooding his features. 

And then he fucking _attacks _them. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Help,” the kid pants, pressing his body against theirs desperately. “I can't--God--" 

He_ is_ strong, Eddie realizes. He wasn’t kidding. His slight body, so much smaller than theirs, feels like it’s made of steel cables. The symbiote instinctively wraps around Eddie’s skin, saving him from bruising. 

“Shhhhhh, it’s okay,” Eddie murmurs, using the symbiote’s strength to scoop the boy up in his arms. “Jesus, were you fighting a wave this entire time?”

“Eddie,” Peter whimpers, “Make it stop…”

“We’ve got you, kid,” Eddie says, and carries him into the bedroom. 

\---

_Seeing Eddie standing there, huge and tight-muscled and black-shirted in the halo of his porch light, was almost too much to bear. But it was better than lying in his bedroom in Queens, staring at the ceiling fan, wracked with wave after wave of need. _

_His hands weren’t enough. Nothing was enough. He needed to be fucked and licked and sucked and held, he needed a real, live, human body bearing down on his, he needed heaviness and weight... _

_Bracing against another wave, his mind had flashed back to Eddie, Eddie smiling wryly in their office, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. All the interns had joked about their shared crush on Eddie; it was unanimously agreed that their boss was 100% certified **hot**. It was true—Eddie possessed a dark attractiveness he seemed to be completely oblivious to, though his fans on the internet had certainly noticed. Peter agreed that the man was good-looking…but he’d never thought about him romantically…had never actually wanted to **touch** him…_

_Until now._

_“If you need help, call me,” Eddie had said. He’d seemed sincere. _

_Peter sat up in bed, hating this decision already. Two minutes later, he was out the window, the cold Queens air whipping his face._

\--- 

Eddie slides his palms smoothly up Peter’s sides as he pushes his shirt off. It feels, Peter thinks, like he’s on fire. Like the hands have left twin burn marks behind them, glowing on his torso. Eddie deftly slips the shirt over Peter’s head and shoulders with the skill of someone who’s clearly done this a thousand times before.

Peter’s heart spikes as he realizes that he’s with someone _who actually knows what he’s doing_.

Eddie does the same with Peter’s pants—doesn’t just strip them off, but uses it as another opportunity to stroke Peter’s thighs, his legs. At last, Peter’s left bare, and embarrassingly erect, on the bed.

“Are you—should I take your clothes off, too?” he asks anxiously. 

Eddie grins mysteriously, and his clothes just—melt right off. 

Peter laughs in surprise, and Eddie smiles. Then suddenly his lips, those perfect plush lips are mouthing Peter’s nipples, and those big rough hands are around his waist and Peter is melting, melting, melting.

Eddie he leans down and draws his tongue—which seems much longer than a normal tongue—across Peter's navel and up his chest. 

He comes. A lot.

Oh, God. His cheeks burn; this is _humiliating_. 

Eddie laughs quietly. “Raring to go, huh?" 

Peter doesn’t answer, still burning with shame. True, he’s in heat, but still, he should be able to last longer than three _seconds_.

“Why didn’t you--” Eddie starts, then changes his tone. “Uh, a good tip is, if you know you’re going to have sex with someone, you can, you know, play with yourself before they come over, and it’ll help you last longer.” 

“I _did_.”

“Ah.”

Five times, though he doesn't say that. 

Eddie laughs softly as he turns and pulls open the drawer next to him, murmuring, “Seventeen…” to himself. He pulls out some tissues, and again, seizes the opportunity to run them up Peter's thighs, all over him, mopping up the spill. Peter has the sudden weird thought that Eddie's teaching him, through demonstration, how to be a lover. 

“Not a problem,” Eddie murmurs. “It’ll be more fun to work you up again.”

And once again he’s—they’re—licking him, their wet mouth moving around his chest as it heaves. He can't stand this. It's exquisite. 

"So," Eddie says. "You broke your girlfriend's ribs. “We can’t have that, now, can we?”

He looks at him coyly, smirking. "You're a menace. A danger to those closer to you..." 

And Peter watches in awe as thick, black tendrils rise from Eddie's back, from his sides, and coil around Peter's thighs and biceps and wrists. Peter tries to lean forward, and finds that he can’t; he can tell that even with his spider-strength, they've got him bound fast. 

"Don't move," Eddie murmurs darkly. "You're going to take whatever we give you...it's your punishment, for all the damage you've caused..." 

_God._ Peter would like to contribute, to participate in this brand new game of talking and teasing, but all he can do in response is pant heavily. He doesn’t know what to say, and he’s past the point of forming words, anyway.

It turns out he doesn't need to say anything, though, as Eddie--_Venom_\--forces a tendril through his lips and into his mouth.

Mouth full, Peter whimpers, begging for more and less at the same time. 

And a tendril pushes its way down his throat, filling him until he almost can’t breathe. He gasps around it, and feels it adjust a little bit. A tiny reassurance that it’s all just a game; that, really, Eddie and his symbiote are still being careful. 

_E--Eddie--make it thicker--_

He doesn't know how they hear him; but the tentacle thickens, and he sucks on it desperately. _Help me...help..._

“All tied up with nowhere to run,” Eddie says, sighing melodramatically. 

Then he pushes his mouth forward onto Peter’s cock.

_Oh, God._

_God. _

_Yes. _

It’s so wet, so plush and so thick and so wet.

Those lips…those lips… 

He’s dying, dying, dying. He’s never felt anything like this...never...

And he’s cresting, crying out, the heat rising in a final, devastating wave. Tears spill down his cheeks and drip onto his stomach, and through the tendril filling his mouth he’s moaning, begging, pleading, _yes yes yes yes_…_Eddie…Eddie…Fuck me, fill me, finish me, God… _

And it gushes out of him, and Eddie’s eyes are gentle, beautiful as he takes it down his throat. He grips Peter's hips firmly as he trembles and is rocked by another orgasm. 

_It’s okay, love. We’ve got you. We’ve got you. _

At last, it's over. Shaking, Peter falls limply into Eddie's arms. The tentacle in his mouth dissolves, and those binding him slip back into Eddie's back. 

Noises are coming out of him, noises that aren’t really moans or cries, just sort of…notes, single long notes of happiness and satisfaction.

“It’s okay, it’s okay," Eddie purrs. "You like that?” 

“Eddie…” Peter says. He nuzzles into his shoulder, suddenly too shy to talk.

For the first time in weeks, he sleeps soundly. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rewrote this chapter cause the previous version wasn't kind of...boring in some parts, freaky in other parts, and failed to turn me on, which is kind of like. The point

When they wake up, the first thing they notice are the boy’s arms, which are wrapped around a pillow, skin pulled tight over the gentle curve of his muscles. A few scattered rays of sunlight spill across his face, illuminating his face: he looks young, untroubled. They can’t resist running a hand over him, drawing their palm over his shoulder and down his bicep. He is, now that they’re allowing themselves to see him, lovely.

They marvel again at how deceptively slender he is, at how much raw power is coiled up in that smallish body. He could fight them, he could fight them easily. The thought excites them; they want to grab that arm, try pushing it in a way it doesn’t want to go. Feel the steel of him as he resists them. They want to wrestle him, toy with him…oh, yes. Their doubts from last night, the worry from their human self, is gone. They can do whatever they want; they are not human, and they are not bound by human convention.

The boy stirs, sunlight moving in his hair. He snuggles into them, contentment and relief radiating from him. “Eddie,” he sighs.

“Venom,” they correct him.

“V’nm,” he mumbles, and they can’t resist—they lean forward and give him a little lick. He shudders happily. “Oh…”

They curve their tongue down his chest, brushing over his nipple, then glide it up his collarbone. “Peter,” they murmur softly. They still have their human face, their human lips.

“Yeah?”

“Let us connect with you...”

“Let you--what?”

They stretch out a few tendrils and find his spine, then sink into it easily. They tap into is spinal cord, thread themselves out through his nervous system. As they connect, they feel the strong thrum of his heartbeat, and the edge of his mind, alert and slightly nervous. 

_Like this, _they tell him.

“Oh—what did you—what—“

_We’ve tapped into your nervous system,_ they murmur._ It’s so we can feel you. Feel what you want, without having to speak. _

_Oh, _they hear him think._ Oh. They…he can **feel** them…they’re part of him…_

_Yes, _they answer._ This is what we do with Eddie. _

They feel his surprise, the realization that Eddie is merely a part of them, now.

_It helps us know when to stop,_ they say, smiling.

“E-Eddie—“ the boy stammers, alarmed.

_I’m still here,_ the part of them that is Eddie says. The boy relaxes slightly. 

_It’s okay,_ they say gently. _We’re both here. We’ve got you. We won’t hurt you._

_Show us what you want, and we’ll give it to you._

And he does. 


End file.
